Charming
by Foxwells
Summary: Simon notices Franziska is cute, and while happy, it puts him off for the night. Fransimon, hella gay (even though it's a straight ship. Shhh). Short one-shot because I'm too lazy for anything else. More people should write this ship.


She was charming. Simon felt satisfied to be able to give such a word. Franziska von Karma was charming. A hand tucked under his chin with a faint, dreamy look not entirely feigned, he eyed the woman drinking a small bit of the fanciest wine the restaurant could offer. The glass was promptly set down and she looked to him, raising a small eyebrow before asking, "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing; You're just dazzling this evening." Right- At the moment, he wasn't "Simon Blackquill", he was "Egbert Causer", a man with his wife, and utterly in love with her. Such a slew of compliments wasn't infrequent for Egbert. And his wife, the newly made "Kathryn Causer", always loved such, smiling and giving some kind of modest reply.

But there was always some kind of "Franziska" and "Simon" put into it all. It couldn't be helped. It was a miracle that the two weren't arguing. When left alone, it was often that the two mindlessly bickered. It usually wasn't over any particulars- simply what they came up with at the time. Though they tamed it as best as they could when out, taking on these identities.

With reason, of course. The two were on a mission along with the police. Neither had expected it to grow so… intensive, but their target was bigger than what was initially judged. For now, Simon dismissed those thoughts, letting his hand fall and his arm settling in his lap. He could ignore that now and focus on their little date. The word felt foreign in his mind. He hadn't been much of a "dater" before he'd been incarcerated, and hadn't pursuited much of anything romantically since he got out. And though they were forced as their characters, Franziska didn't seem all that displeased with the outing either. They chatted mildly, quickly finding it harder to keep up the personas. Mostly at his fault- He couldn't help a few out of character jabs here and there, to which she'd retort and dismiss, once or twice giving him a hiss to quit it.

And not to mention, but he'd accidentally kicked up a war in the form of the game called "footsy". It honestly had been an accident. He'd lightly kicked her and muffled a laugh. It'd been unrelated, but perceived otherwise. And thus the two were locked in a silent battle, and he'd also rapidly learned just how painful her heels were. He had to hold back a sharp outburst of pain every now and again, and every time, she looked quite proud.

He sat now on a bed in a hotel room, rubbing the bottom of his leg lightly while Franziska changed in the other room. And once more, she gave a victorious look as she came out and saw him, to which he met with a glare.

"Is it safe to assume you won't be doing that again, Mr. Simon Blackquill?" she asked, putting her dinner outfit neatly away.

"I'll just have to challenge you again when you're in different shoes." He looked up at her.

Half a look was given back, and she said, "But they were, to quote you, dazzling."

He dismissed her with a short "Hmph" and looked back down. "Try not to confuse that love-drenched sap with my own self, von Karma-dono."

"So now you're insulting my dress?" she asked, a mild taunt in her tone.

He looked up with another hard look. She laughed, and he looked down. That laugh sounded nice. Even if she wasn't. He flicked his eyes to the side as if they were his thoughts, focusing instead on a forming bruise on himself. That would be fun to deal with.

Simon's look was summoned up as Franziska approached. She looked down at him, asking, "Are you planning to sleep on the couch, or are you going to move to your bed?"

He waved a hand and got up, moving past her and lying down on one of the two hotel beds. They had to share a room, but they were at least allowed this much. He looked down now to her. She was still standing by the couch, looking at him.

"Am I laying wrong now?" he asked, voice slightly edged.

"You're in a bad mood."

He took a deep breath, sitting up and answering, "I am not."

"A fight _you_ started could not have possibly annoyed you so much." She held a calm look.

"I am _not _in a bad mood-"

"Nor am I oblivious."

He went stiffly silent, locking eyes with her before laying back down. "Turn off the lights," he dismissed. "You're the one wanting to go to bed."

She stood there for a minute longer before coming to the few lights on, flicking them off. As she went to deal with the bedside lantern, she hesitated. She then looked over to him, saying, "Wake up in a better mood." The light was flipped off. "Miles said you were bearable."

He rolled the other way, giving no reply as he heard her crawl into her bed. He let a hand cover his eyes. She was still too charming.


End file.
